The Delirious Conversations (the perks of colds)

Colds suck. And all the late night waking sucks.

But there are little bright bits of yarn woven into the choppy nights: all the dreams (many of which involved the cast of Friday Night Lights because obviously in my subconscious I think we really are friends). The quiet whispering from the pillow next to me, "I wuv you." The little foot against my leg looking for contact. The conversations.

At some point last night, Silas became too tired to keep waking up, so each time he had to cough, he would sit straight up, cough and cry a little, but not fully wake. His eyes would roll a little and he'd pause as if he were searching for something to say:

Lie down Silas.
Mama,--
Shhhh, go back to sleep.
could ... you...?
His eyes rolled a little and he reached out his hand.
Could you... ?
Lie down, Silas.
He lay down, hand still out.
Could you... bite ... my finger?
...
I pretended to bite his little finger, the one he sucks that is covered with coughing disease.
He started to pull his hand back in -- then pointed again.
And kiss my finger?
I pretended to kiss his ET finger.
He held out his palm.
And kiss my hand?
He settled into the pillow.
I kiss my own hand holding his hand.
...ok.
And then he was asleep.